


it's got to be tough, cynical stuff

by nightwings (nauticalallusions)



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Bad Parenting, Established Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou, Established Miya Osamu/Suna Rintarou, Established Relationship, M/M, Minor Miya Atsumu/Sakusa Kiyoomi, Multi, Polyamory, partially
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-25
Updated: 2021-01-25
Packaged: 2021-03-18 05:13:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 18,892
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28986912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nauticalallusions/pseuds/nightwings
Summary: Osamu and Rin have been dating for years, ever since the very beginning of high school, when Rin walked into the gym, looked at Osamu, and said the words that were scrawled across his right forearm. Still, Osamu is fairly certain that he and Rin, for all that they love and are in love with each other, have never been able to forget about the other set of words on the both of them: printed in a beautiful, small scrawl across the back of his left shoulder and Rin’s right forearm.Eventually, Osamu had kind of given up hope that he and Rin would ever actually meet their other soulmate— that is, of course, until Akaashi Keiji arrives at his onigiri stand at the start of the Black Jackals versus Schweiden Alders game that Atsumu had been begging him to come to for months, looks up at him, smiles, and says, “Onigiri Miya is very good,” and Osamu had thought, finally. Finally.But, well. Akaashi Keiji isn’t at all like he expected. He’s cagey and awkward and seems terrified when Osamu says soulmate words that must be written somewhere on his body and—Well. And Akaashi Keiji is married. So there’s that too.
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou, Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou/Miya Osamu/Suna Rintarou, Miya Osamu/Suna Rintarou
Comments: 32
Kudos: 216





	1. sweetheart, what have you done to us?

**Author's Note:**

> Hello and welcome to a very self-indulgent fic! I'm such a sucker for writing poly ships in this fandom, and this seemed like a fun fic to have up for Suna's birthday, so here I am. I'm posting both chapters immediately since this fic is for Suna's birthday and the only real reason this fic is separated into two chapters is because of the perspective switch. 
> 
> Anyway, I hope anyone who reads this enjoys it! I really loved writing this fic and also really enjoyed the very strange experience of creating a relationship tag on Ao3, since I've never had to do that before for a fic.
> 
> Also as a brief cw, just in case anyone is wary of the tags: The "bad parenting" tag is simply something that gets discussed in a conversation between Osamu, Suna, and Akaashi towards the end of the first chapter of this fic. Besides that, there should be nothing else in this fic that needs a warning, as long as you're okay with a bit of angst and a lot of cheesy fluff at the end.

The thing about having two soulmates that no one would ever talk about is that finding both of them in one lifetime is, often, completely impossible.

After months of dedicated research less than a few weeks after he and Rin had found each other, Osamu had learned to somewhat accept this fact. He’d thought, maybe, just maybe, he might be okay with never meeting his second soulmate. Rin is enough for him, anyways, just as Osamu is enough for Rin.

It’s just that… Sometimes— _only_ sometimes— he thinks that it might be nice to be able to meet the person whose words were on his back.

He knows that Rin feels the same way too.

Still, it had been years since he and Rin had met and Osamu had happily accepted a life with Rin and no one else, with Rin playing volleyball and Osamu running his restaurants. He doesn’t even really spend much of his time thinking about _what ifs_ anymore and, if he does, then he wraps himself around Rin and they talk about _what ifs_ together, creating a different image of a person that could match their soulmark words every single time. It’s like a game, except in all the ways that it’s desperate and sad, but they always try their best to pretend that it isn’t either of those things.

It doesn’t matter much, in the end, Osamu knows. Life would take them where life took them and that’s okay.

He has Rin, after all.

Still, Osamu is fairly certain that Atsumu— maybe as some kind of divine repayment for all his natural idiocy— has some kind of power for placing people in the right place at the right time. 

Not that he had thought much about it when Atsumu had begged him to come to the MSBY Black Jackals verses Schweiden Alders game in Sendai “because we’re gonna kick the Alders _asses_ , Samu, and it’s gonna be so great and ya just gotta be there, okay? ’M gonna do my new serve and everything so you _gotta_ come.”

He’d been planning to go anyways, after all. Not that he would ever say that out loud to Atsumu. It’s not like he needed to. Atsumu knows. 

Atsumu always knows, because he’s an asshole.

So Osamu had said, “fine, whatever, Tsumu. I’ll be there.”

Landing a food stand for the venue had been a big score, actually. Normally Osamu wouldn’t have even tried, but the opportunity had kind of just fallen into his lap and Osamu isn’t the kind of person to look a gift horse in the mouth.

Free promotion is free promotion, after all.

It had been an early morning, though, rousing himself from the warmth of _bed_ and _Rin_ to drag himself to the train in time to get to the Sendai location of Onigiri Miya, get into the kitchen to make a full stock of onigiri before dragging said onigiri and all the things he needed out to one of the store’s vans in order to arrive at the venue in time to actually set everything up.

By the time he’d gotten to the venue, Rin had started texting him pictures of himself just getting out of bed because he’s an asshole, but Osamu couldn’t stop himself from smiling anyways.

In the lead up to the game the stand is so busy that Osamu doesn’t have time to check his phone, even though he knows that Rin was texting him still, because he could feel it buzzing in his pockets. The only moment of pause that Osamu allows himself is when the MSBY Black Jackals enter the court. It’s something like happiness, he figures, to watch Atsumu enter the court.

Not to mention that watching Bokuto Koutarou backflip his way onto the court is something else too.

By the time the game starts, most people are already in their seats, so Osamu allows himself to watch Kageyama’s mean serve to start off the match. His arms sting almost in sympathy as he watches Hinata (“Shou-kun!” Atsumu kept saying whenever the two of them had talked on the phone over the past few weeks because he was an idiot who had always been overly affectionate with everyone and their damn mother) dig the ball.

Two girls come up to the stand and order in between giggles and whispers to each other. Osamu grabs two tamago and a miso onigiri for them and wraps them up. He hands the food over and accepts their money, slipping the coins into the money pouch in his apron pocket and offering the two of them a polite wave goodbye.

Just as he’s about to turn his attention back to the court again, another person approaches the stand. Osamu blinks, just once, at the man. His overcoat is a soft beige that looks incredibly warm and he kind of looks like he hadn’t slept properly in a few days, a little rumpled and soft. His face and his eyes and honestly something about his hair, even, are so familiar that Osamu digs through the recesses of his brain to try and remember where the hell he’s seen him before.

 _Ah,_ he thinks, suddenly, the image of the same face but several years younger standing at center court in the Tokyo Metropolitan Gymnasium, a little bit closer to Bokuto Koutarou than probably strictly necessary. _Fukurodani’s setter. Probably?_

He looks like Fukurodani’s setter, at least. Not that Osamu has ever cared enough to pay all that much attention to someone he’d never actually played against, despite how impressive of a team Fukurodani had been back when he was in high school.

Then Probably Fukurodani’s Setter opens his mouth and says, “Onigiri Miya is very good. Do you still not have a Tokyo branch?”

“Thank you,” Osamu says, the words leaving him automatically as his brain shuts down in a long white noise-like sound of panic. “Not yet, but we’re thinking about it.”

_Holy shit._

Osamu jerks, his shoulders stiffening a bit. Probably Fukurodani’s Setter is staring at him, his eyes wide and—

Well. He looks a little scared, if Osamu isn’t mistaken. Which… Which doesn’t make sense, but Osamu can’t even really process the expression because _holy shit_ , this is his other soulmate.

 _Rin._ He needs to text Rin.

Probably Fukurodani’s Setter’s hands are shaking when he orders his food, his voice barely audible over the noises of the game happening behind him. Osamu gathers the food, boxing it slowly to try and stall for enough time to think of something— _anything_ — to say. He’s pulled from his spiralling at the sound of the noise of the crowd being cut off, his eyes automatically drawn to his stupid brother and his even stupider pre-serve routine.

The serve Atsumu hits is fast but just outside the line and, at the sight of Atsumu’s angry face, Osamu can’t stop himself from saying, “lame. Tried way too hard to look all fancy at the start.”

Probably Fukurodani’s Setter laughs, a short puff of happy air that has Osamu’s brain short-circuiting a bit. He barely even processes Atsumu’s glare as his twin walks by where they’re standing.

They stand there for probably way too long, not saying anything (except for when Atsumu and Hinata do that stupid, ridiculous quick attack because how could anyone not comment about _that_ bullshit), both of them staring out at the court and watching the game when Osamu suddenly realizes that he’s already finished bagging the order. Shit. What the hell is he supposed to do now?

“Ah.” Osamu clears his throat. “Er… Yer onigiri?”

Probably Fukurodani’s Setter flinches at the sound of his voice and turns to look at him, his eyes still wide. He looks down at the bag and then back up at Osamu.

“Yes. Right. Thank you.” 

He places a small handful of yen on the table between them and accepts the bag. He half-turns and Osamu feels his voice get caught in his throat. Is this guy seriously just going to fucking _walk away?_

After a moment’s pause, Probably Fukurodani’s Setter turns back to look at Osamu. His face is a little clearer, now, as if the small step of distance has calmed him down, just a bit. Osamu wonders if he should back up a step too, seeing as his own head still feels all out of sorts.

“The… Uh. The party that’s happening after the game,” Probably Fukurodani’s Setter says. His fingers keep tangling and untangling themselves in the handles of the plastic bag that holds his onigiri. “Will you be there?”  


“Oh.” Osamu blinks a few times. “Yeah. It’s… Yeah. I’ll be there.”

The after party is happening at Onigiri Miya’s Sendai location, actually, so there’s no way that Osamu wouldn’t be there. He can’t bring himself to say that, though, even though it’s certainly suaver sounding than whatever the hell he’s saying right now.

Probably Fukurodani’s Setter nods once, squares his shoulders, says, “I’ll talk to you there, then,” and walks away.

Osamu blinks at his back, a little stunned. He watches the rest of the first set in a complete daze. After Bokuto Koutarou hits the set winning spike over the net, Osamu turns to one of the workers with him today— Sasaki-san, he’s pretty sure her name is— and says, “I’m gonna step out and make a phone call real quick. Ya can handle this, right?”

After receiving an affirmative nod and a cheerful thumbs up, Osamu quickly exits the gym, fishing in his pockets for his phone. He’d missed a number of texts from Rin, who’s probably at practice by now, honestly. Still, Osamu clicks through his contacts and selects Rin’s name anyways. He tries to lean back against the wall, but his right leg starts jumping up and down nervously, so he resorts to pacing back and forth as the phone continues to ring and ring and—

After what feels like an eternity, Rin’s voice says, “Osamu?”

A huff of air leaves Osamu in a hurry. “Rin.” He closes his eyes and tries his best to breathe. “Hey. Sorry, were ya busy?”

“We’re taking a break right now,” Rin says. His voice is quiet but warm and Osamu wants to curl up in it and never leave. “Why are you calling? Shouldn’t the game still be in like the second set or something? Did something happen or did ya just miss me?”

Osamu snorts at the sound of Rin’s shitty Kansai accent. What an asshole. 

“The game’s about to start the second set. I guess I missed ya, if that’s what ya want to hear,” Osamu says, unable to keep his smirk out of his voice. He sobers rather quickly and adds, “And… And nothing’s wrong, exactly. Just… Are ya able to come to Sendai for the after-party later?”

“Uh.” Rin pauses and silence stretches between them for a moment before he says, “sure. I was already thinking about it anyways. What’s going on?”

“I met our other soulmate.”

The words are really quiet, actually, for as much of an impact as they have. 

It only takes Rin a couple of seconds to stutter back to life from down the line, a cough leaving him before he chokes out, “I’m sorry, what?”

“Ah…” Osamu sighs. His free hand reaches up to mess with his fringe. “Fukurodani’s setter from when we were in high school. He was the same year as us, I think? He stopped by the stand to get onigiri and he said my other set of words. And… And I must’ve said his because he seemed a little freaked out or something.”

There’s another pause before Rin’s voice, a little further away from the phone, sounds again as he says, “hey, Washio! What was the name of the setter for your team when we were in high school?”

After a few seconds of muffled noise, Rin hums, the phone clearly pressing against his face again.

“Akaashi Keiji is our soulmate, then?”

A shaky breath leaves Osamu. _Akaashi Keiji._ A pretty name for a pretty person, he remembers thinking the first time he ever saw him, back in high school. His thoughts now are still much the same. 

Rin doesn’t say anything, seemingly unsure of how to proceed. It’s not like Osamu has any better idea about what they should be saying, though. Still, he takes a deep breath and tries to calm himself.

“Anyways,” he says finally. “He said that he was coming to the after-party for the game and he said he’d talk to me there, so I figured that ya should be there for that.”

“Of course.” Rin still sounds calm, somehow. Osamu has no clue how. He’s thankful, though, and does his best to time his breathing with Rin’s slow inhales and exhales. “I’ll figure it out, ‘Samu. I’ll see you in a couple of hours, okay?”

“Yeah, sure. See ya then, Rin.”

“I love you,” Rin says. Osamu bites down on his bottom lip so hard that he’s kind of scared he might draw blood.

Fuck, Rin just always knows what he needs to hear, doesn’t he?

“I love ya too, Rin. Always.” 

Rin hums and offers a quiet goodbye, another “I’ll see you soon,” before he hangs up. Osamu stands in the hallway for a few more minutes, his hands shaking around the phone that’s clutched in them. He stares at the wall across from him, tracing around the pattern of the stone before he sighs and shoves his phone back in his pocket.

He has better things to do then freak out.

*

Osamu manages to not freak out for the rest of the match and he makes it to Onigiri Miya in one still mostly sane piece to set everything up for the party. He even manages to get through making a whole ass batch of onigiri before panic starts to seep around the edges of his vision again and his hands start to shake a bit.

It’s why when the players start to show up, Atsumu finds him— Sakusa following closely behind, a hand gripping the back of Atsumu’s jacket, which is both adorable and absolutely gross— sitting at a booth in the back of the restaurant, his face planted in between his arms on top of the table.

“Uh… The fuck are ya doing?” 

Osamu lifts his head the bare minimum that allows him to glare at Atsumu before setting his head back down on the table.

“Don’t fucking ask,” he offers, the words pressed into the sleeve of his shirt. “Just… Tell me when Rin gets here, will ya?”

“Sunarin?” Atsumu asks, confusion loud and clear in his voice. “Why the fuck is Sunarin coming to Sendai?”

“I invited him,” Osamu says, turning his head to the side so he can see the look of annoyance that Atsumu is giving him right now.

Ha. Serves him right.

A polite cough sounds to Atsumu’s left and they both turn to look at Sakusa. One of his hands is resting on Atsumu’s elbow, now, but most of his attention is directed to Osamu, his brow furrowed.

“Sorry, Osamu. Do you mind if Atsumu and I sit here, or would you rather we sit somewhere else?”

How the fuck his dumbass of a brother managed to wind up being soulmates with someone who knows what manners are Osamu has never been quite sure, but he is thankful for it. At least it means that Atsumu will sometimes behave like a normal person.

Osamu sighs. “‘S fine,” he says. “Ya two can sit here. Just… Don’t ask right now, okay? I don’t want to talk about it and I have to wait until Rin is here.”

There’s an awkward silence as Atsumu and Sakusa both settle down at the table. Finally, Atsumu— because he’s a nosy bitch who’s completely incapable of not speaking at all times— coughs hesitantly. 

“Look, I’m not asking ya ta tell me what’s wrong, ‘Samu,” Atsumu says. He looks a little sheepish, his fingers fiddling with one of the napkins set on top of the table. “Just… Everything’s okay with you and Sunarin, right?”

A little touched, even though he’ll never fucking admit it, Osamu tilts his head back just enough to stare at Atsumu for a second. 

Atsumu looks back at him, his eyes a little wider than normal. He flickers his gaze over Osamu’s face, quick and sharp. He must see whatever he wants to see there, because after a moment he nods and turns back to Sakusa, latching onto his arm like a limpet.

Osamu snorts and presses his face back into the table. What an idiot.

They don’t exactly sit in silence, considering Atsumu keeps chattering away at Sakusa, but Osamu is more than used to Atsumu’s useless ramblings, so the sound is simply background noise, an oddly comforting and familiar form of it at that. Osamu isn’t exactly sure how long they sit there, but he looks up when Atsumu starts tapping at his shoulder and watches as he points towards the door.

“Rin’s here.”

“Ah,” Sakusa says, leaning against Atsumu’s shoulder to get a better view of the doorway. “Motoya came as well.”

Osamu turns to look, spotting Rin and Komori standing near the doorway. Rin has taken off his jacket and draped it over his arm. Komori looks a little lost, but is happily greeting familiar faces as he and Rin wander into the restaurant.

Osamu pushes his way past Atsumu, barely even listening as he starts to whine, and pulls himself out of the booth and makes his way towards the two of them.

“Rin.”

“Oh.” Rin turns and a smile pulls at his lips, his eyes crinkling at the edges. “Samu. Hey.”

Osamu reaches out and tugs Rin into his arms before he can stop himself, pressing his face against Rin’s shoulder. 

“Wow,” Rin says, a hint of laughter in his voice. “Someone’s clingy today, huh?”

“Shut up. It’s been a long day, Rin.”

“I know, I know.” Rin’s hand cards through his hair, shifting the strands together and apart slowly. “It’s going to be okay. You know that right? No matter what.”

There’s no way for Osamu to say that he knows that without sounding disgustingly sappy, so he curls himself closer to Rin and breathes in, doing his best to stay calm. Rin seems to understand because he doesn’t say anything for a while. He just runs his fingers through Osamu’s hair in a slow pattern, his breathing calm and steady.

Eventually, Osamu pulls himself from Rin’s arms and says, “We should probably…”

Rin sighs, nodding towards the counter. “He’s over there, right? Next to Bokuto?”

“Uh.” Osamu turns, his head tilting to the side just a bit. 

Akaashi Keiji is, in fact, seated at the counter with Bokuto Koutarou seated to his left. Akaashi’s posture looks rather uncomfortable, actually, Osamu notes. He’s all hunched in on himself, his shoulders drawn up practically to his ears. Bokuto has a hand resting on Akaashi’s shoulder, his other hand gesticulating rather wildly in front of the two of them.

“Yeah,” Osamu says. He shoots a glance at Rin, but his face looks much as it always does. His narrowed eyes are the only real indication that he’s nervous. “That’s him. Do ya think we should just… Head over there?”

They’re quiet for a moment. Finally, Rin reaches out and tangles their fingers together. 

“Let’s go,” he says and drags Osamu in the direction of the bar. Osamu doesn’t complain, simply tightens his grip on Rin’s hand and lets himself be pulled across the room.

When they reach the bar, Osamu clears his throat. Akaashi and Bokuto both turn around to look at them. Bokuto blinks and offers the two of them a small smile and a wave. Akaashi, on the other hand, flinches at the sight of them. One of Bokuto’s hands reaches out to pat at Akaashi’s shoulder for a second or two. The motion seems to cause Akaashi to relax, ever so slightly, his shoulders drooping just a bit.

Osamu feels vaguely like he’s intruding on something. He kind of wants to scream, but he doesn’t want to give anyone a reason to look at them.

After a long silence, Akaashi tangles his right hand in Bokuto’s left and pulls them both upright. He turns to look at Osamu and says, “Is there a room somewhere that we can go to talk privately?”

“Sure.” Osamu shrugs, his hand twitching around Rin’s. He can’t seem to pull his eyes away from Bokuto and Akaashi’s intertwined hands, despite the fact that he wants to. “Follow me.”

The four of them walk quietly to the private seating room in the back. Rin tugs on his hand as they walk, shooting a glance over his shoulder at Bokuto. His eyes quite clearly say _why the fuck is he coming too?_ , which is something that Osamu can only answer with a shrug.

The back room is quiet and dark when he pushes the door open, so Osamu moves to flick the light switch up after everyone enters. He shuts the door behind them and turns back to find Akaashi sitting at the table, Bokuto directly next to him again.

“Um.” Rin clears his throat.

Osamu turns to look at him, then. Rin looks beautiful, just like always, even though he’s clearly nervous. His eyes are bright, his arms are crossed over his chest, and he looks defiant, his chin raised high.

God, Osamu loves him.

“I’m Suna Rintarou,” Rin says, his eyes pointedly staring at Akaashi. “It’s nice to meet you, Akaashi-san.”

Akaashi blinks. He looks totally lost, all of a sudden, and Osamu kind of wants to hug him, just to get that look off of his face, but he can’t bring himself to move. He’s fairly certain that Akaashi probably doesn’t want either of them anywhere near him anyway.

Finally, Akaashi clears his throat. “Hi. It’s nice to meet you as well, Suna-san.”

And that’s— well.

Those are Rin’s soulmark words, for sure. Osamu’s familiar enough with the characters delicately scrawled across Rin’s forearm. He’s pressed his lips to them, traced his fingers across them, thought about them more than enough times to recognize them as if they’re his own.

They’re silent for what feels like an eternity. Osamu stares at Rin and Rin stares back at him, looking just about as perplexed as Osamu feels. Just as Osamu is about to gather all of his courage and actually say something— although who knows what the fuck it would be— Akaashi says, “sorry. I know that I’m making this difficult, but I think that there’s no way for this to not be complicated.”

“What do ya mean?” Osamu hears the words leave him more than he actually speaks them consciously.

Akaashi turns to look at him, blinks twice, and then looks away.

Osamu’s heart kind of hurts.

He doesn’t think he’s done anything wrong, really, but Akaashi looks like he couldn’t even bring himself to look at either Osamu or Rin so one of them _must_ have done something wrong, right? And it must be him, since Rin had just met Akaashi for the first time a few minutes ago. That’s the only logical conclusion he could come to. 

Fuck. He’s so confused.

“I…” Akaashi shakes his head and clenches his eyes shut. Osamu mourns the loss of them, not just because they’re beautiful, but because they’re definitely the most expressive part of Akaashi’s face. “I’m sorry. I don’t really know how to tell you both this.”

“Just say it,” Rin says, his voice dry. “Rip it off like a band-aid or whatever.”

“The two of you are my soulmates. That’s true. And I… I would never want to deny that but…” Akaashi’s voice cracks but he clears his throat, shakes his head, and forges on. “But Koutarou and I are married.”

Osamu freezes. He can feel Rin’s jerky movements from beside him and he really doesn’t blame him because—

That. That shouldn’t be possible.

Akaashi is watching them, his eyes open again. There’s something raw in his face, despite how unreadable it had seemed to be all day, that tells Osamu that he’s deadly serious. Somehow, despite the fact that it must be completely fucking illegal, Bokuto and Akaashi are _married_. Actually fucking married.

Akaashi had married someone that wasn’t one of his soulmates.

 _Bokuto_ had probably married someone that wasn’t his soulmate.

Osamu’s brain is stuck in a loop, just panicky _why?_ sthe only thing he seems capable of thinking over and over again.

Rin’s voice shakes a little when he says, “You… You what?”

“That…” Osamu’s voice dies in his throat for a minute before he shakes his head and continues, “that’s not possible. Ya don’t have each other’s soulmarks so ya can’t… How would ya...?”

“Ah.” Bokuto clears his throat, his head bobbing up and down rather awkwardly. He looks hesitant to speak. Osamu wonders, briefly, if he feels like he’s intruding in a moment that isn’t his own. Osamu has yet to decide if it feels like Bokuto’s intruding because, well. Really he is, probably, but—

_Married. Koutarou and I are married._

“Well. I was born without any soulmarks, actually,” Bokuto finally says. His fingers are still tangled around Akaashi’s and his knuckles look a little white. “But it’s… Well. It’s sometimes really difficult for a lot of people without soulmates to get jobs and get into private schools and stuff like that. Er. People aren’t supposed to discriminate against someone for that stuff but… It happens a lot. So when I was little my parents took me to this soulmate specialist that they were close friends with and he changed my paperwork to say that I had internal soulmarks.”

It’s entirely too much information to process all at once and explains almost nothing. Osamu blinks, trying to force his brain to muddle through the words.

“So… Um. Sorry. Internal soulmarks?”

“It’s a rare condition where a person’s soulmarks are inside of their body!” Bokuto says, suddenly way too chipper. “But, uh, because of that paperwork, nobody needed to check my body for a soulmark when Keiji and I got married.”

Osamu feels a little sick to his stomach as he thinks about the implications of all that. Then had…

“Did you pass one of our soulmarks off as Bokuto-san’s, then?” Rin asks, his eyes locked on Akaashi’s face. He’s pissed, judging from the way his hand flexes against Osamu’s to the way his eyes narrow. His jaw is clenched so tightly that Osamu thinks it might snap if he were to poke at it.

Akaashi still won’t fucking look at either of them when he shakes his head. It should be comforting but, somehow, it isn’t.

“Then how did ya…?”

Finally, Akaashi lifts his head and his eyes meet Osamu’s. He looks kind of angry, all of a sudden, a little too defiant in ways that feel so much to Osamu like looking in a mirror and seeing the pieces of himself that are Twin and nothing else that something in his chest breaks, just a little. 

Slowly, but with purpose, Akaashi grabs the hem of his shirt and lifts it up to his chest. On the left side of his chest near the top of his ribs, just slightly diagonal from where his heart is, are a set of words in a handwriting that is completely unfamiliar to Osamu. He stares at them, almost uncomprehendingly, and then turns to look at Bokuto.

Bokuto is watching Akaashi, his face quiet and peaceful as he looks at the words.

Osamu feels as if he’s forgotten all of his.

“So… So you have three soulmates?” Rin finally says, sounding just as confused as Osamu feels.

“No,” Akaashi says. He drops his shirt. His hand falls to his lap and curls on top of where his and Bokuto’s fingers are still locked together. “There are… There are a number of excellent forgers who can create realistic faux-soulmarks on a person. I did quite a bit of research and then paid to have this mark put on me.”

 _What the fuck_ , Osamu wants to say out loud. He doesn’t, but. The thought is definitely there. Rin has the same stunned, angry look on his face when Osamu shoots a glance at him.

“Why would ya do that?” Osamu asks. His voice might be shaking. He isn’t exactly sure. It’s hard to hear much of anything over the ringing in his ears. “That seems like a hell of a lot of effort to go to for something that’s illegal.”

“My parents,” Akaashi starts, but seems to abandon the thought quickly. He shakes his head, his hair flopping a bit with the motion. “Just… My parents are assholes. And…”

Bokuto is patting at Akaashi’s shoulder again, a small frown on his face. “Are you okay, Keiji? You don’t have to talk about anything if you don’t want to.”

It’s sweet. So tooth-rottingly, disgustingly sweet that Osamu kind of wants to die. That’s _his_ soulmate. _Rin’s_ soulmate. His _and_ Rin’s and yet—

He doesn’t think he’s ever felt so far away from another person.

Not even Atsumu, when he’d told him that he didn’t want to go pro in volleyball and they’d fought for weeks. Not even Pa, when he’d told his parents that he was moving to Shizuoka and Pa had told him that he’d always known Osamu was going to follow after Suna and Atsumu because that was all he’d ever done and Osamu had been so tired that he hadn’t even remembered how to be offended until months later. Not even his fucking idiot brother, when Atsumu had dragged him to meet Sakusa for the first time and he’d seen the two of them together, so wrapped up in each other that it was like they were incapable of noticing anyone else and for just a brief moment he’d felt lonelier then he’d ever thought possible. 

Osamu thinks that he might be angry, but it doesn’t really feel like anger. Just something hollow in the middle of his chest.

“And what?” Rin snaps. He takes a step forward, tugging Osamu along with him. He looks so familiar in ways that are completely new, then, the look of anger and the way his fist clench so reminiscent of Atsumu at his worst that Osamu is a bit horrified.

Sometimes, being reminded that his brother and Rin are best friends is absolutely terrifying.

Akaashi tilts his head backwards and clears his throat. He looks lethal in the dim lighting, his eyes sharp and something dark in them.

“I can’t divorce Koutarou. It’s not possible. But… But even if it was possible, I wouldn’t. I might not have been born with Koutarou’s words on my skin but I truly believe that he’s my soulmate. I love him with every piece of myself. I would never allow us to be separated. So… So if either of you want to be _my_ soulmate, this is just something that you’ll have to accept.”

And with that bomb dropped and detonated in the middle of the room, Akaashi separates his hand from Bokuto’s and turns on his heel, leaving in a blur of anger and the soft, warm beige of his coat.

Osamu stares at the space where he’d just been, absolutely stunned.

“Sorry,” Bokuto says, after way too long of the three of them staring after Akaashi in silence. “He’s… It does matter to him. That you all are soulmates. Really. He’s just… Sensitive and stressed and exhausted from work. And he’s been overthinking this all day.” 

Rin turns to glare at Bokuto, his face so emotive that Osamu feels a bit unsteady. “And you’re okay with all this?”

Bokuto shrugs. His lips quirk into an awkward little smile. It looks strangely muted on his face and Osamu almost feels uncomfortable seeing it. 

“I always knew that Keiji would meet at least one of his soulmates someday,” Bokuto offers. “I’m not… Upset. Not about that. I want him to be happy, more than anything else. But… But I feel the same way that he does.”

Osamu’s throat feels far too dry. “Which is?”

“I love him with every piece of myself,” Bokuto says. His smile is bigger, now, still a little somber but also so bright it’s practically blinding. “And I would never allow the two of us to be separated either. It’s… I know that it’s selfish, but I believe that he’s my soulmate as well. I don’t need words to tell me that. It’s just the truth.”

There’s nothing to say, really, Osamu figures. Nothing that would change anything. 

Bokuto bows his head, polite and awkward. It’s a strange look on him. Even from the distance that Osamu had always viewed him at, as someone who was nothing more than his idiot brother’s teammate for several years, Bokuto had always seemed too bright to even approach. Now, he seems so oddly dimmed that it hurts.

“I apologize for the trouble this will cause you both. And… I understand, and Keiji does as well, if this is something you need to talk about with each other first. Just… Don’t hate him for this. He doesn’t deserve that.”

When Bokuto raises his head from his bow he’s still smiling, something so genuine and kind that Rin sucks in a sharp gasp and Osamu thinks that being stabbed might be a nicer feeling than this.

Not that he has much experience to compare it to, but—

“All I ask,” Bokuto says carefully, “is that if you need someone to blame for any disappointment you feel then you blame me and not Keiji. If… If you can find it in yourselves at all to try, I think that Keiji would be really happy to get to know the two of you.”

Osamu can’t stop himself from asking, “And what about you?”

Bokuto blinks at him, looking a little shocked. Rin’s face looks much the same, his eyes wide as he turns to stare at Osamu.

Bokuto seems to shake himself, eventually, and his face goes from shocked to soft. 

“That’s, um. That’s really nice of you to ask, Myaa-sam,” he says, his voice and eyes bright. “I think you all should be happy and should get to know each other. I’m just selfish enough to refuse to leave Keiji, even though I do believe that soulmates are usually right for each other. Sorry. I guess that’s kind of horrible of me.”

As much as Osamu wants to say that it isn’t horrible to want something, he can’t bring himself to open his mouth.

Instead, it’s Rin who says, “I… I think that Osamu and I might need some time to discuss some things. Do you think Akaashi would mind if you gave us his phone number? So that we can contact him after we’re done… discussing.”

“Ah.” Bokuto runs a hand through his hair. “I don’t want to give his phone number to people without his permission, even though you’re his soulmates. But… I can give you mine! If you want that.”

“Sure,” Rin says. He opens his phone and hands it to Bokuto, his motions slow but purposeful. “Thank you, Bokuto-san.”

Bokuto hums happily and clicks away at Rin’s phone before closing it and handing it back. Rin holds his phone carefully, clutching it between his free hand and his chest. Osamu lets his eyes bounce between Bokuto and Rin, watching the two of them watch each other.

Bokuto clears his throat, his hand rubbing awkwardly at the back of his neck. “Well. I should probably go. Um… I hope the two of you have a good night. I’ll talk to Keiji and see if he’s okay with me sending you guys his phone number.”

“Thanks, Bokuto.” Osamu says, chewing at his bottom lip. “Ya have a good night as well, alright?”

“Sure thing, Myaa-sam!” Bokuto says, giving them a thumbs-up before he ducks out the door, heading down the hallway in the same direction that Akaashi had run off in.

Osamu and Rin don’t move, their hands still grasping tightly at each other’s.

“Well, that didn’t exactly go the way I thought it would.”

When Osamu turns to look at Rin, Rin isn’t looking back at him. Instead, Rin is staring out the door, his eyes locked on the last place that Bokuto and Akaashi had disappeared. There’s something on his face, barely pressed into the worried lines of his forehead, that makes Osamu cling tighter to his hand.

At the increase of pressure, Rin turns around. His face goes soft, the worry lines on his forehead fading abruptly.

“Don’t leave,” Osamu can’t help but say, pulling Rin into his arms and holding as tight as he possibly can. “I don’t think I could stand it, Rin.”

Rin sighs against his neck, the puff of air making Osamu shiver. Rin’s lips press to the skin quickly after in a silent apology. Osamu shifts to press his forehead against Rin’s shoulder, just above his collarbone, and inhales, taking in the familiar scent of Rin.

“You know that I could never.”

A hand reaches up to brush at Osamu’s hair, tugging lightly on the ends that fell along his neck. They stand in silence, breathing in each other, for what feels like an eternity and mere seconds.

Rin, his lips pressed against Osamu’s temple, says, “I couldn’t stand it if you left me either, Osamu.”

When he can bring himself to speak again, Osamu mumbles, “what are we going to do, Rin?” into Rin’s neck. Rin sighs again.

“I don’t know. I… Really don’t know, ‘Samu.”

And, after that, there really isn’t much to say at all.

*

Osamu is fairly certain he spends the rest of the evening in a daze, because before he even knows what’s happened, almost everyone has cleared out of his restaurant and he finds himself slumped low in the back corner booth, Rin’s head curled on his shoulder as Atsumu, Sakusa, and an incredibly awkward looking Komori stare at the two of them.

“Samu,” Atsumu says, eventually, after what feels like hours but couldn’t have possibly been, since Atsumu has never spent more than twenty minutes sitting in silence in his entire life unless the silence is a _We’re Not Speaking Because I’m Mad At You_ kind of silence. “What’s going on?”

Osamu narrows his eyes but doesn’t bother trying to answer.

“Sunarin,” Atsumu tries again, just a few seconds later. “C’mon. Ya two are never this cuddly and it’s kinda freaking me out. What’s going on?”

“Samu met our other soulmate earlier today,” Rin says. His voice is barely more than a mumble into Osamu’s shoulder. He sounds so drained that Osamu tightens his grip on his waist, trying his best to hold Rin as close as he can. He doesn’t expect that it’ll help anything, really, but it makes the weight resting on his chest feel a little bit more bearable. If he could, Osamu would pull Rin close enough that they could merge into one and never have to let go. Life might be easier that way, honestly. “So I came here so we could all meet. Motoya drove me.”

“Wait, wait,” Komori says. His hands are planted on the table as he leans forward, his eyes narrowing. He ends up so close to Rin’s face that Osamu blinks a few times, startled by the sudden closeness. “Is that what you were asking Tatsuki about earlier? _Akaashi Keiji_ is your soulmate?”

“Keiji-kun?” Atsumu says, blinking. His mouth opens and closes once and then twice. “Wait, what? But Keiji-kun is totally dating Bokkun!”

“Dating?” Sakusa turns to look at Atsumu, his eyes narrowing. 

Atsumu tilts his head to the side to look at Sakusa, surprise written across his face. “Huh? What do ya mean? Of course, they’re dating! Bokkun talks about Keiji-kun all the time. They’re obviously dating. Come on, Omi. I know that I usually notice these things first, but ya ain’t no slouch.”

“No, I mean…” Sakusa shakes his head and shoots a glance around the room before continuing, “Atsumu, Bokuto and Akaashi-san are married.”

“Huh?” Atsumu’s mouth is hanging open and Komori honestly looks like Sakusa has just started speaking in a foreign language or something. It would be funny, probably, normally. “What do ya mean they’re _married?_ Did Bokkun tell ya that?”

Sakusa frowns, his eyes narrowing in on Atsumu’s face like he can’t decide if he wants to kiss him or punch him. Osamu muffles a snort into Rin’s hair.

“I asked him about the necklace he always wears several months ago. He told me that it was his wedding ring. I asked who he was married to and he told me that he and Akaashi-san had been married for three years now.”

_Three years._

Osamu sighs.

“But…” Komori coughs, staring at Sakusa. “That shouldn’t be possible, right? It’s not possible for people who don’t have matching soulmate marks to get married.”

Rin is the one who speaks, next, his head slightly lifted from Osamu’s shoulder so that the side of their heads are pressed against each other. 

“Bokuto doesn’t have soulmarks,” he says. His voice sounds just as tired as Osamu feels. Fuck, it’s been a long day. “He told us that a family friend that’s a soulmate specialist changed his paperwork so he’s listed as having internal soulmarks. And… and Akaashi has a third forged soulmark on his body, in Bokuto’s handwriting.”

“ _Huh?_ ” Atsumu’s mouth is hanging wide open. Normally Osamu would have made fun of him for it but, currently, he just rolls his eyes, too tired to do much else. “Wait… No soulmarks… And… And Keiji-kun just… _Huh?_ ”

“Internal soulmarks,” Sakusa says, his brow furrowing. “Ah. I never thought that… I suppose it makes sense, though.”

“Does it?” Atsumu turns to stare at Sakusa, his eyes wide and his face a little annoyed. “I mean… What’s wrong with not having soulmarks? Why did Bokkun’s family fake all that?”

Sakusa, his chin resting on his hand, sighs in that elegant and yet still disdainful way that only pretty rich people can pull off. “People often look down on others for not having soulmarks. There’s apparently some argument that people without soulmarks are less driven to commit to long term situations and plenty of other senseless bullshit.”

“How…” Osamu blinks, narrowing his eyes at Sakusa. “How do ya…?”

“My older brother was born without soulmarks,” Sakusa says. He arches an eyebrow. When Osamu glances at Komori, he’s nodding. “He had a lot of difficulty being admitted to a number of private high schools our parents wanted him to attend, as well as finding a job after university.”

“What?” Atsumu shakes his head a few times, a question mark practically visible on his face. “Takeshi?”

Sakusa nods, his lips pursed. 

Komori leans his head against the back of his chair and says to the ceiling, “he doesn’t talk about it often. He’d never say it, but I think it upsets him a lot, even still.”

“It would be hard, I think,” Rin says. His eyelids droop, his hair brushing against Osamu’s cheek. “To live in a world where everyone else has someone meant for them and you don’t.”

“Huh.” Atsumu’s voice is comforting, in the way that only the most familiar of things always are, and Osamu closes his eyes and rests his head on top of Rin’s, listening to the lilt of the ever warm and home-like kansai dialect. “I never would’ve guessed.”

“To be fair, we aren’t that close,” Sakusa says, after a moment. “He is seventeen years older than me, after all.”

“Still! I never would’ve known if ya hadn’t told me.”

When Osamu opens his eyes again, Atsumu is staring at him, his lips pulled into a frown. His eyes are so full of concern that Osamu kind of wants to punch him for it, but he can’t bring himself to move away from Rin.

God. Atsumu was right. They’re being way too fucking clingy right now.

Sakusa, instead, reaches out to grab Atsumu’s hand, maybe noticing that Osamu’s close to the end of his rope. Atsumu turns, attention diverted, and Osamu sighs, doing his best to avoid looking at Komori. 

“What do we do?” Rin mumbles after a moment.

Osamu kind of wants to cry. “I don’t know, Rin,” he says. “I don’t know.”

“‘Samu.” Atsumu’s voice is somehow both annoying and calming when he speaks again. Osamu glances at him out of the corner of his eyes and sighs at the look on his face. Sometimes Atsumu’s just like a dog with a fucking bone. “Let us help.”

Osamu is, at his core, just as obnoxiously stubborn as Atsumu is, though, so he doesn’t say anything.

“We don’t know what to do,” Rin says finally, breaking the awkward silence.

Osamu hums, staring at the table. “‘S been a long day, ‘Tsumu. We’re kinda overwhelmed, I think. Ya don’t have to worry about it.”

“Well, then.” 

The voice that speaks startles Osamu and he turns to look at Sakusa, eyes widening. “What?”

“In the end, I think it comes down to three options,” Sakusa says, his voice so calm and reasonable. He folds his hands in front of him on the table, his eyes shifting between Osamu and Suna as he speaks. “And the two of you just have to decide which one you feel that you can live with the best.”

“Oooh,” Atsumu croons, “we’re getting Omi-kun advice! ‘S my favorite.”

Osamu reaches a hand out to smack the back of Atsumu’s head at the same time that Komori deadpans, “Everything Kiyoomi does is your favorite.”

At the sight of Atsumu’s pout Rin snorts, lifting a hand to cover his face. Osamu tries his best not to smile solely because Rin is laughing, but he’s fairly certain that he doesn’t quite hide his grin, judging by Atsumu’s “ew, gross.”

“What are our options?” Rin finally asks, his voice surprisingly clear of laughter.

“The first is that you contact Akaashi-san and ask to see him and get to know him,” Sakusa says. His dark eyes are calm but far too intense and Osamu shifts, just a bit too self-conscious to stay still. “I don’t think he’d see anything wrong with it, considering that the three of you are soulmates, but you’d probably always have to be delicate about how you approach the fact that the three of you are in a relationship and Bokuto and Akaashi-san are in a separate but equally important relationship.”

Osamu has already acknowledged, somewhere deep inside himself, that dating Akaashi and awkwardly working their way around Bokuto is probably the best option for the two of them to take. Or, well. It’s the easiest, at least. Still, he thinks that they could probably make things work, that way. It might be strange or awkward, but it’s definitely possible.

But then—

_I love him with every piece of myself._

It’s a strange harmony, in his mind, Akaashi and Bokuto’s voices repeating the phrase over and over again.

Sakusa’s voice pulls him from his thoughts.

“The second option is that you two continue to live as you have been. You leave Akaashi-san and Bokuto alone and that’s it. Maybe you become friends, eventually, if there’s no animosity.”

“No,” Rin says before Osamu can. “That’s… I don’t think we could do that. Unless… Not unless that was what Akaashi really wanted.”

It’s nice to know, at least, that even now he and Rin are of the same mind. Not that it’s a surprise, really, since they’ve sort of always been this way, but it’s still comforting to not have to say much of anything and have Rin know exactly what he means.

“Then there’s only one other option,” Sakusa says.

Osamu frowns. “There is?”

“Well… It’s incredibly rare for soulmate bonds to not match, right?”

“That’s true!” Komori says, perking up. He waves his finger around and offers, “statistics say that it’s less than 0.5% chance for unmatched soulmate bonds to happen.”

Atsumu frowns, shooting a look at Komori. “Why the fuck do ya know that stat, Komori-kun?”

“I know a lot of things, Miya-kun,” Komori says, crossing his arms over his chest and sticking out his tongue.

Sakusa rolls his eyes. 

“So… What are ya suggesting?” Osamu asks, directing the attention of the table back to Sakusa.

“If Akaashi-san is right and he and Bokuto _are_ soulmates, then… Then that would make you and Suna soulmates with Bokuto as well, right?”

Rin startles, against his side, and for a moment he stops breathing. Osamu feels as if his breath has been stolen from him as well. He stares at Sakusa for far longer than he would like to, his brow furrowed.

That’s… well.

It’s surprisingly convincing logic, actually.

Komori is staring at Sakusa as well, looking for all intents and purposes absolutely shocked that he said something so blatantly romantic. Atsumu looks disgustingly in love, which Osamu elects to ignore, and Rin…

Rin is staring at his hands, his fingers tapping a slow and methodical pattern along the table. Osamu watches them move, pinky to ring finger and all the way down to his thumb before they start back in the other direction.

“Ah.” Osamu blinks a few times, clears his throat, looks back up at Sakusa, and says, “oh. I guess… Well. Yeah.”

“It makes sense,” Atsumu says, after a pause. “Kind of.”

Sakusa rolls his eyes and then offers, “I don’t need you to agree with me. It’s just something that the two of you need to think about over the next few days.”

“Right. We will. Thank you, Sakusa.”

When Osamu glances at Rin he’s still staring at his hands, but his fingers are still now. He breathes out a slow sigh.

“We will,” Osamu says quickly. “Think about it, that is. Thank ya, Sakusa.”

“We should get drunk tonight, though,” Rin says, finally looking up. A small, crooked grin is pulling at his lips and Osamu wants to kiss him.

Instead, he shrugs and says, “sounds like a great plan to me.”

It’s probably not a great plan, really, but Sakusa, Komori, and Atsumu don’t seem to have the heart to tell them no, so alcohol it is.

*

Osamu doesn’t think about any of it again, really, until he wakes up on Wednesday morning. 

In his own defense, his week has been busy and he’s spent what feels like almost every waking hour trying to keep himself afloat, working through paperwork and new employees and it feels like he’s barely had a moment to himself, except for the quiet few hours of the evening where he and Rin have dinner together.

So it’s on Wednesday morning (both his and Rin’s days off) that he wakes up and finds himself staring at Rin’s face, his beautiful, long eyelashes pressed against his cheeks, his mouth parted and a little bit of drool slipping onto his pillow, and finds himself thinking _Bokuto probably wants to wake up and see Akaashi drooling every morning._

And it’s stupid, really, because there’s no way that should be his first thought when he wakes up in the morning, but also—

Bokuto is in love with Akaashi.

It’s not a fact that Osamu has ever doubted, but it’s one that he knows without a doubt. He feels it in his bones, feels it deep within his gut when he remembers the look on Bokuto’s face when Akaashi had shown them his tattoo. Raw, pure, unadulterated.

Osamu has never been a particularly expressive person, but he wonders if he’s ever looked at Rin that way. He hopes he has.

How would they even go about it? He wonders next. His mind takes him on a strange wandering path of imaginations of dates with Akaashi and Bokuto and Rin, Bokuto’s bright and cheerful voice coming up with nicknames for he and Rin, Akaashi’s quiet eyes crinkled up into a smile, and Rin—

Osamu pauses, his lips parting, as he stares at Rin’s face. What would Rin be like on a date with new people? What would Osamu himself be like? Strangely, he’s not entirely sure he even remembers what dating felt like. Maybe the even stranger thought is that, really, neither he nor Rin are really good at _dating._ It’s just not something they really had to do before. They had fallen into each other too easily, all of their time spent next to each other without a need for reason nor explanation for it. It had just been simple, with them.

Now nothing is simple anymore, but there’s a large part of Osamu that genuinely wants to try, even though he has no reason to.

It’s one thing to try with Akaashi. To try for Akaashi. They’re soulmates, after all. Something in the fabric of the universe had thought that he and Rin and Akaashi were meant to love each other and that has to mean something.

There’s no reason to try with Bokuto, really, but—

He wants to. Truly.

“Rin,” Osamu says. The name is pressed into his pillow, but Rin raises his head anyway, blinking sleepily at him. “Morning.”

Rin shoves a hand in Osamu’s face and groans. “Did you fucking wake me up just to say good morning? I’ll kick your ass, Samu.”

Osamu licks at Rin’s hand, biting back a grin when Rin yelps and pulls his hand away, wiping it off on their blankets with an incredibly eloquent, “fucking disgusting, Osamu.”

A huff of laughter escapes Osamu and, soon enough, Rin is joining in as well, his quiet huffs muffled by Osamu’s shoulder as he turns and curls into him. They lay there for what feels like hours, basking in the comfort of their bed and each other. Finally, Osamu sighs and shifts so that he can look Rin in the eyes.

“Rin,” he repeats. “I think we should call Bokuto later.”

Rin shuffles around a bit so that he’s further back on his side of the bed, his eyes narrowing. “You want to try seeing Akaashi then, don’t you?”

“I do,” Osamu says. He chews at his bottom lip for a bit before he adds, “Also… Um. I don’t know how they’d feel about this, since they didn’t bring it up when we all talked the other night but. I can’t help but think that maybe we ought to see if Bokuto would want to date us too.”

“You…” For a brief moment, it’s almost as if Rin is completely stunned. His dark eyes are wide from across their pillow, flickering back and forth over Osamu’s face. “You’re sure about that?”

“If yer okay with it,” Osamu blurts out. The look on Rin’s face is kind of scary, so blank that Osamu doesn’t even know what he’s saying anymore, just that he needs to say something. He hasn’t felt this unsure in a conversation with Rin since they were in high school, back when he’d felt like he’d stumbled over every word he’d ever tried to say to him, too distracted by Rin’s pretty eyes and even prettier face to actually try and be smooth.

Rin is quiet for a moment before he says, “I’m okay with it. I just want to know why you think we should.”

“I…” Osamu falls silent. He bites his bottom lip again. “I can’t stop thinking about his face the other night. It’s like it’s fucking haunting me, Rin.”

“I know,” Rin says because of course he does. Rin always knows what Osamu means. His eyes close, for just a second, his eyelashes curving against his cheek. “I wanted to be mad so badly but he just kept smiling and I couldn’t.”

“I just can’t even imagine what it must be like to not ever have a soulmate and then to find someone ya love more than anything but always be scared that they’re going to be taken away from ya.”

He’s been thinking about it for days, now, trying to imagine a world where Rin had always been meant for someone else and it hurts Osamu’s heart to even imagine the possibility of it. He can’t imagine loving someone so desperately even knowing that they’ll have to leave no matter what he does to try to make them stay. 

Frankly, it sounds like a fucking nightmare.

Slowly, Osamu trails his fingers across the top of their comforter until his hand is resting on the pillow in between them, lying palm up. Rin’s eyes go a little soft, blank to warm, and reaches his hand out in return, laying his hand on top of Osamu’s and tangling their fingers together. He squeezes once their hands are locked around each other, a silent _I’m here_ that Osamu appreciates more than he can ever be able to explain.

Not that he needs to explain. He can tell just by looking at Rin that he already knows. After so many years spent together, Osamu figures that it’s just to be expected, by now.

“I just kept… I kept thinking about how I’d feel if it was us like that, Rin.” 

“Me too,” Rin says. His eyes close for just a moment, eyelashes fluttering against his cheeks. “I would be so scared. All the time. I… I don’t know how he kept smiling like that. Thinking about it again…”

Osamu sighs. “Kind of makes ya wanna cry, huh?”

Rin watches him, for just a moment, his eyes wide and dark. He nods, finally, a slight tilt of his head that ruffles his hair against his pillow. Osamu reaches out and brushes the hair down, tangling his fingers through the strands.

For a brief moment of silence, Rin allows him his petting. It’s comfortable, the two of them, just as it’s always been. When Rin’s eyes start to slip closed again, he sits up, suddenly, causing Osamu’s arm to fall to the side.

“Get dressed,” Rin orders, throwing the covers so far down the bed that Osamu shudders at the blast of cold air. “I’m hungry.”

Osamu snorts. “I think I’d rather stay here,” he offers, unabashedly staring at Rin’s ass as he wanders about their room.

Rin clearly knows him too well, because he doesn’t even turn around when he flips him off. Osamu laughs, smothering his smile with his pillow.

Today’s a good day. He just knows it.

*

And so, on a cloudy Wednesday morning, Rin calls Bokuto.

They’ve set themselves up on the couch, dressed in sweatpants and ill-fitting, too-large t-shirts, and curled up together under a blanket. Rin dials the number and holds the phone in between the two of them, his eyes watching Osamu’s face. Osamu watches the phone ring, staring at the contact name of _Bokuto-san_ until the line clicks and Bokuto’s voice says, “oh! Hello! Uh. Suna-san?”

“Hello,” Rin says. “It’s nice to speak to you again, Bokuto-san.”

“Hey, Bokuto,” Osamu says, clearing his throat. “How’re ya doing?”

“Ah!” If Bokuto is at all surprised that both of them are talking, he doesn’t let it show. Instead, he lets out a chipper, “Myaa-sam! Hello!”

Rin clears his throat. “We… Uh. Osamu and I talked. We were… Wondering if Akaashi…”

“Oh,” Bokuto says. “You want to talk to him, now? Um. I’m at practice right now, but let me text him and ask if he’s okay if I give you his number! I’ll text it to you when I’m done with practice, if he says that’s okay.”

“Sure,” Rin agrees. “That’s fine. Thank you.”

“Okay!” Bokuto’s volume goes up about two notches and Osamu can’t tell if it’s because someone started speaking at his practice or if it’s because they’ve upset him, somehow. Before he can bring himself to ask, Bokuto says, “well! I’ll text you later then!” and hangs up.

Startled, Rin blinks at his phone for a few seconds before he locks it and sets it on the table in front of them.

Osamu stares at the TV, unable to find anything to say. A replay of the most recent Tachibana Red Falcons match flickers before his eyes, muted but still enough of a distraction to keep him calm.

“Well. I guess we’re going to talk to Akaashi about it all first,” Rin says finally. His hand reaches out to wave in front of Osamu’s face.

Osamu turns to look at him. His long sleeve t-shirt is so big that it hangs off of one of his shoulders, the sleeves dripping over his hands and pooling in his lap. He looks soft and incredibly kissable.

“I’m going to cook breakfast,” Osamu offers. He doesn’t move, though. Instead, he just stares at Rin. “Let me know when Bokuto texts ya, yeah?”

Rin arches an eyebrow and says, “if you’re going to cook breakfast you should get your ass off the couch then. Or, alternatively, you could just kiss me and we can go from there.”

And, well. Osamu may not be completely instinct-driven but, still. He’s just human.

In the end, he doesn’t cook breakfast.

*

Akaashi Keiji is always beautiful, Osamu has kind of figured after meeting him twice. He’s the kind of pretty that’s completely natural, where he can just roll out of bed and be all tousled dark hair and big, beautiful grey-blue eyes. Still, there’s something about him here, now, in dark jeans and a dark turtleneck and that beige jacket of his in the dark lit restaurant, mostly visible by the flickering of the candle on their table, that’s kind of ethereal. Osamu knows he’s not the only one who thinks that, either, if the little sigh Rin gives when Akaashi sits himself down across from them is anything to go off of.

The three of them are silent for far too long before Akaashi bows his head a bit and says, “Hello, again. Um… Thank you, for reaching out. I... I apologize for the other night. I was. I was very rude, I think.”

“You weren’t that rude,” Rin says, ever so honest. “I’m sure Osamu and I have been far worse in the past.”

A laugh leaves Osamu before he can help it as he goes through a quick mental checklist of every rude and stupid thing he’s done that Rin has definitely caught on camera. His brain’s first input to the list is what he says out loud, barely holding back laughter long enough to speak. “‘Tsumu and I used to get into fights so often in high school that everyone at our school would bet on who was gonna win and our poor captain had to tear us apart all the time to stop us from trying to kill each other. And Rin used to just fucking film us.”

“I have a large wealth of blackmail material.” Rin’s smile is sharp and all too pleased, but his eyes are focused on Akashi. “If you’d like to see any of it, someday.”

Akaashi is smiling a barely-there smile, but he’s still smiling, so Osamu’s going to count it as a win for himself and Rin.

“I look forward to seeing it someday, then,” Akaashi says. “And… Thank you. For agreeing to meet even though…”

Rin taps the back of Osamu’s hand, then, and Osamu turns to look at him. His eyes are determined and clear and Osamu takes a moment to do nothing other than admire Rin’s face. For courage, or something.

It’s harder than he had imagined it would be, to actually say it out loud. When he’d imagined doing this, and when he and Rin had talked about it, Osamu had been able to convince himself that this would feel easy. 

Somehow, it feels the furthest thing from that.

“Actually, we have something that we wanted to talk to ya about,” Osamu finally manages to say. Akaashi glances at him, eyes wide, his shoulders tensing up. _Shit._

Rin seems to notice that Akaashi is on guard again as well, because he blurts out, “Nothing bad! Just… It’s just something we were thinking about.”

“I see.” Akaashi’s shoulders droop a bit and he lets his eyes move over both Osamu and Rin’s faces before he says, “what is it, then?”

“Well…”

“We were thinking about it,” Osamu says, his voice a little quieter than he would like. “And… Clearly, ya think that Bokuto is yer soulmate. So… If we’re trying to go by a logical pattern here then that… that would mean that he should probably be mine and Rin’s soulmate as well, right?”

The words clearly aren’t what Akaashi expects, because he’s actually staring at them with his eyes so wide they look almost doubled in size and his lips parted to form a small o shape. He seems to try to say something several times in a row before he gives up, continuing to flounder in his confusion.

“We think that… If both you and Bokuto are okay with it, then maybe all four of us should try to date,” Rin says. 

“You… You mean that?”

Osamu clears his throat and says, “Course we do. Rin and I talked about this a lot, Akaashi. We wouldn’t have offered if we weren’t sure that we wanted to try.”

Akaashi’s almost perfectly still, for a long moment, his only movement his fingers tapping restlessly at the table. Osamu doesn’t say anything, letting him stare at the two of them until he makes up his mind about what he wants to say. Rin seems a bit restless, fiddling with the edge of the tablecloth, so Osamu reaches out and grabs his hand.

When he looks back up at Akaashi, he seems to have shaken himself out of the confusion he’s been feeling.

“If Koutarou agrees to it, I also think that would be… nice.” That small, pretty smile is on Akaashi’s face again, the tiniest upward tilt to his lips. The candlelight flickers across his face again and he looks delicate and maybe a little too fragile. 

_Beautiful_ , Osamu wants to say. 

“I don’t want to pry, but I was wondering… Why are you and Bokuto-san married?” Osamu turns to look at Rin, blinking. Akaashi seems similarly startled, his hands fidgeting atop the table. “It’s just… Motoya said something the other day about it being a lot of effort to go to for something so risky. And… And Sakusa told us that the two of you have been married for three years, at this point. So… You must have been quite young when you got married. I was just... wondering…”

“Ah.” Akaashi nods. “It’s a long story, kind of.”

“We have time,” Osamu says, a grin pulling at his lips. “I mean… That’s kinda the point of dates, yeah? We’re supposed to sit here and talk about stuff together.”

For some reason, this seems to surprise Akaashi almost as much as the two of them saying that they wanted to date Bokuto as well, because his mouth falls open again, his eyes darting between the two of them. Osamu arches an eyebrow, unable to stop himself. Akaashi’s cheeks turn a little red in return, barely visible in the poor lighting of the room. Rin’s smiling when Osamu glances at him, his nose scrunched up in the way that meant he’s absolutely delighted and can’t hide his smile even if he tries to.

It’s so endearing that Osamu reaches out and presses a finger to the lines that have dug themselves into the skin of Rin’s nose, a smile stealing its way across his face.

“Cute,” Akaashi says, suddenly, causing Osamu to jump. His finger jabs into Rin’s forehead and Rin reaches out and shoves him away, grumbling about how rude Osamu is. Akaashi presses a quiet laugh into the palm of his hand. When he finishes giggling, he settles his chin in the palm of his hand and his elbow atop the table. He’s smiling still as he looks at them.

Osamu doesn’t think he’s ever seen what Akaashi looks like when he was calm and enjoying himself, before. He does his best to commit the image to memory.

“Anyways.” Rin coughs. Osamu bites back a laugh. It’s been so long since the last time he’s seen Rin get flustered. “You…”

“Well, the short version is that my parents are… difficult people,” Akaashi says. “The longer version… Hm. My father and uncle are CEO and CFO of a very profitable company. Thankfully, I was never set to inherit the company, as my older cousin will, but… My parents were very determined to… shall we say, uh… gain profitable relationships for the company through their children?”

Osamu blinks, the last detail catching his attention.

“Ya have siblings?”

He doesn’t ever recall hearing Atsumu talk about Akaashi having siblings at all, but it’s probably safe to assume that Atsumu doesn’t know all that much about Akaashi, so it’s possible it’s never come up before in conversation. Still, people are (most often) always eager to talk about their own siblings when they first encounter one of the Miya twins, as if either of them have any experience with a sibling relationship that isn't basically just a giant mess at all times. 

Well. Things have been better, for a while, but. Still.

A complete mess.

“No.” Akaashi shakes his head, sighing. “My parents planned to have… I think three kids? There were complications with my birth, however, so the doctors informed them that they shouldn’t have more children.”

“That’s… Unfortunate,” Rin says. 

Akaashi shrugs, his lips quirking up into a half-amused smile that doesn’t seem entirely natural. Osamu watches Rin frown, leaning forwards ever so slightly as if he wants to reach out and press his fingers to the corners of that smile, just to push them upwards until the smile is genuine.

“Anyways,” Akaashi says, “my family doesn’t really believe in soulmates as an end all be all sort of thing. They view them more so as a guide to a relationship that would be… effective, I suppose. So… When I graduated high school, my parents told me that if I wasn’t married to my soulmate within two years, they would arrange a marriage for me with someone that would further their business relationships. I told them that I didn’t want to get married until I had a stable career, and then they told me that if I wasn’t married by the time I finished university then they would rather not have me home anymore.”

“Huh? Wait but… why would they—?”

The words leave Osamu before he can fight to keep them in and Akaashi looks at him with wide eyes, as if surprised that Osamu is somewhat offended on his behalf. Rin, too, has clenched his hand so tightly around Osamu’s that Osamu is fairly certain his fingers are going to start turning purple soon.

“It’s a fairly common practice, despite the existence of soulmates,” Akaashi says. He’s still smiling, though. Osamu kind of hates it. “I appreciate your concern, though.”

Before he can even think about the words building up inside of him, Osamu blurts out, “There are some things that ya just got to get angry about, Akaashi-kun. I think ya ought to stand up for yourself a bit more, ya know.”

“Ah.” Akaashi blinks, his eyes growing a bit wider. “Koutarou said the same thing to me, back then.”

Osamu startles, a bit. Being compared to Bokuto Koutarou isn’t something he expected to happen to him probably ever, much less today, by Akaashi, of all people. For a moment, he feels ever so slightly off-kilter. Osamu has never particularly considered himself to be a nice person, although he does like to think that he’s always supportive of the people that he cares about. Still, he doesn’t think that’s anywhere near optimistic and amiable enough to be equated to Bokuto Koutarou’s overwhelmingly bright presence.

“Well, he’s right,” Osamu says, finally, arching an eyebrow. “Ya ought to take care of yourself a bit more, Akaashi-kun. Ya deserve better than that.”

“When I asked Koutarou if he would marry me, he told me that I should yell at my parents before he did it himself.” Akaashi’s voice is full of something light, like laughter but not quite as loud. He leans his cheek against one of his hands, the other tracing patterns along the tablecloth. “He knew that I wouldn’t, of course, and I even told him that it would never happen. Still, he married me without questioning any of it. He asked me if he was being selfish, even. Like _I_ wasn’t the one who was so incredibly selfish.”

 _It’s not selfish to want something_ , Osamu wants to say. He thinks they’re words that are ever so important to him, despite the fact that he can never bring himself to say them out loud. It hadn’t been selfish of him to want to leave volleyball behind. It isn’t selfish to want something good that’s just for oneself. He tries, so often, to remind himself of that.

“It’s not selfish to want things,” Rin says. Osamu startles, his eyes widening a bit. Rin is smiling in the face of the shock on both Osamu and Akaashi’s faces, his eyes crinkling up at the edges. “It makes you human.”

“Besides,” Osamu says, once he’s brought himself back down to earth and to their table. “I think Bokuto Koutarou is a good thing to want.”

Rin hums and adds, “nice tits,” because he’s an asshole.

Akaashi blinks, just once, and then he’s laughing, a hand raised to cover his smile.

“Well,” he says, finally. “I definitely can’t argue with that. It seems as if we have a type, Suna-san.”

Rin snorts out an ugly laugh that Osamu kind of adores. He glances between Rin and Akaashi as the two of them laugh together, unable to help but smile.

Dinner is easy, Osamu finds. Easier then it feels like it ought to be, but maybe that’s just the nature of being soulmates with someone. Their conversation is lighthearted and calm and Osamu feels himself relax further and further as the night goes on. They stay later than any of them had thought they would, talking about nothing and everything until Akaashi’s phone rings, startling the three of them out of their conversation about the perfect rice— Osamu lives and dies by the rice from Kita-san’s farm, whereas Rin does his best to argue for the nostalgia factor of his grandparents’ rice farm. It’s an argument they’ve had before, of course, full of playful teasing, but there’s a delightfully new element thrown in with Akaashi’s blank comments of “I have no preference as long as I can eat it.”

Akaashi grabs his phone from his pocket and glances at the screen. He seems to hesitate for a moment before he shakes himself and says, “It’s Koutarou.”

“Answer it,” Rin says as he eats another bite of his cake. Osamu tries to be as stealthy as possible when he steals a bite of it, but Rin glares at him anyway.

“Koutarou?” Akaashi asks when the phone is raised to his ear. “What’s wrong?”

Osamu can’t quite make out what Bokuto is saying, but his voice is loud and a little panicky. Akaashi blinks slowly as if trying to process the stream of words that are suddenly being thrown at him.

Rin put down his fork in concern, leaning a bit further across the table. Osamu steals another bite of Rin’s cake (because he has priorities) before doing the same.

After an extended period of Bokuto’s rambling, Akaashi lets out a quiet laugh and says, “no, it’s fine, Koutarou. I’ll be there soon, okay? Please don’t worry about it.”

When Akaashi hangs up the phone moments later, Osamu arches an eyebrow. “Everything okay?”

“Yes, it’s fine.” Akaashi sets his phone down on the table. “Koutarou arrived at our apartment, but he thinks he left his keys in Osaka. Or, at least, he can’t find them at all. So I’ll need to head out, soon.”

“That’s fine.” Rin smiles, a bit. “We wouldn’t want to intrude on anything.”

“Ah, I don’t mean to be callous,” Akaashi says, rather abruptly. “But… You both could come with me.”

Osamu can’t control the way that his eyebrows fly upwards. Rin seems similarly startled, although he doesn’t seem to react at all, really.

“To your apartment,” Rin says, his voice not really phrased as a question.

Akaashi nods, his head tilting to the side. “I don’t see any reason why you shouldn’t, especially if you’re both planning to stay in Tokyo for a bit.”

“Won’t that upset Bokuto?” Osamu asks, frowning. The last thing he wants is to make things awkward, especially considering their whole plan for this situation. It would be a disaster if they make a mess of things before they even have the opportunity to ask Bokuto to date them as well.

Akaashi shakes his head. “Maybe, but he won’t admit it. If you want to be proactive, though, you could just come with me and ask to date him too while we’re all together.”

Osamu blinks. The thought hadn’t even occurred to him, really, mostly out of fear that everything might be happening too fast. Still, they are all soulmates. Probably. Maybe it’s better if things move fast, now. He and Rin moved fast when they first met, after all. They’d barely known each other for more than a few days and it was as if they’d attached themselves at the hip, clingy and entirely too obnoxious, despite the fact that they never held hands in public or ever acted like they were dating in front of other people.

Osamu turns to find Rin already looking at him, one eyebrow arched. In return, Rin shrugs and nods.

“Sure,” Osamu settles on saying since Rin has returned to his cake. “Let’s do it, I guess. Thank ya, Akaashi.”

“Anytime.” 

Through an entire mouthful of food, Rin helpfully adds, “you’re my new favorite.” Akaashi tries to stifle his laughter but doesn’t fully succeed. Osamu takes another bite of Rin’s cake as his repayment. Rin must feel merciful because he only glares at Osamu and doesn’t try to stab him with his fork or something.

When their waiter comes by to find Rin and Osamu squabbling over the last few bites of cake, Akaashi is kind enough to both admit that he does actually know them and pay the bill.

*

Akaashi’s apartment building (as well as Bokuto’s off-season apartment, Akaashi tells them on the way inside) is a fairly posh place. Osamu supposes that he shouldn’t be surprised, considering that Akaashi just told them that his family is rich as all get out, but it still takes him aback when Akaashi introduces both him and Rin to the guy manning the door.

They wander into the first elevator they see and it’s so shiny and pristine looking that Osamu finds himself shifting away from the walls, not wanting to touch or smudge anything. Rin takes a step closer to him and when Osamu turns to look at him he has his phone out and is snapping pictures, ostensibly of the elevator but almost certainly of just Akaashi’s face, his head tilted back against the elevator wall and his eyes closed.

Osamu hides a smile into his jacket, unable to help himself. Rin would never admit it if asked, but Osamu knows without a doubt that he genuinely likes taking pictures, even if he’ll always say that they’re simply for blackmail material.

Akaashi eventually cracks an eye open, narrows his eyes at Osamu’s complete lack of subtlety and says, “are you taking photos of me?”

“You’re pretty,” Rin says, completely unashamed. Osamu understands. He wouldn’t be ashamed either, honestly. “I can’t help myself.”

They arrive on Akaashi’s floor and he pushes himself away from the back wall. As the doors slide open he smiles, his blue-grey eyes shining (and not just from the reflection of the hallway light off of his glasses). 

“You flatter me,” he says, voice quiet. The back of his neck turns a bit red as he makes his way down the hallway.

Rin chuckles. When Osamu glances at him there’s a small smile on his face, his eyes scrunched up a bit. He looks incredibly soft and Osamu would tease him about it, normally, but the three of them turn the corner at that moment and Osamu’s eyes land on a door in the back of the hallway, a figure slumped next to it.

He feels his shoulders tense, his breath caught in his lungs. He’s not ready for this. He’s not.

When they actually reach Akaashi and Bokuto’s apartment, the three of them find Bokuto sitting outside the door, his head tilted back to press against the wall. At the sound of footsteps he perks up, turning to them with a wide smile. The sight of Osamu and Rin causes his movement to stutter, but he collects himself so fast it’s almost as if the slight droop of his smile never happened at all.

“Keiji,” he says, his voice quiet. “And. Um. Myaa-sam. Suna-san. Hello.”

“Koutarou,” Keiji greets warmly, his eyes crinkling a bit as he smiles. 

Osamu offers a “hey,” and Rin nods, giving a half-hearted wave.

Bokuto bounces his shoulders a bit and pulls himself upwards. When he’s standing again he leans back against the wall, his arms crossed over his chest. His shirt is tight as it pulls with the motion. Osamu blinks several times before forcing himself to turn his attention back to Boktuo’s face.

“I guess your guys’ date went well, then,” Bokuto says. He’s smirking, just a bit, which means he’s definitely noticed the way that everyone is staring at his pecs. Still, he wears the smirk like it’s old armor, brittle and ready to crumble at any moment.

Osamu sighs. “We actually have something that we want to ask ya, Bokuto.”

“Oh?” Bokuto turns to Osamu and Rin, his eyes darting over both of their faces before returning to stare at Akaashi as he moves to open the door. “What’s that?”

“Let’s go inside, first,” Akaashi says.

The words only seem to make Bokuto tenser, but he doesn’t complain. Instead, he grabs Akaashi’s hand and clings to him as the two of them push the door open and head inside. Osamu glances over his shoulder at Rin, who takes one of Osamu’s hands without prompting and tugs him forward after Bokuto and Akaashi.

All four of them are silent as they take their shoes off and place them on the rack by the door, carefully selecting a set of slippers. Osamu waits until Bokuto and Akaashi have both taken a pair and then grabs a set of pale yellow slippers and holds them out to Rin. Rin rolls his eyes but takes them anyway. Osamu bites back a smile as he takes a pale blue pair of slippers off of the shelf and puts them on.

The inside of Akaashi and Bokuto’s apartment is beautiful, Osamu thinks. It’s a bit on the minimalist side, but Osamu assumes that that’s just Akaashi’s rich as fuck upbringing showing itself in his interior decorating preferences. 

(Osamu has been to Atsumu and Sakusa’s apartment, after all, and the resemblance of the minimalism is striking and, well. There’s just no way in hell that any part of their minimalist decorations was Atsumu’s idea. Atsumu has always had a sense of style that was more… well. Not quite maximalist, because he’s never really been one for opulence, but more on the nostalgic side of things. Pictures pinned everywhere on the walls, Osamu’s weird childhood collections of rocks, and Atsumu’s stuffed animal collection from when they were young had always been staples in their bedroom, even throughout high school. Every inch of Atsumu’s home always felt like a home, memories that were never needed but always there, in case one chose to revisit them. 

The minimalism, at least in the front of his and Sakusa’s apartment, had been almost shocking to see, the first time Osamu had visited. It had felt like he looking in the mirror and not even recognizing part of himself anymore and, really, it had scared him, just a bit. Not that he would ever admit that out loud.) 

Still, the walls of Akaashi and Bokuto’s apartment are a soft grey and the carpets are a beautiful, deep blue. The couch looks so big and comfortable that one could simply sink into it and disappear. Osamu is almost tempted to try, but he fears that he’ll forget what he needs to say if he gets himself trapped in the smooth, cushy leather. 

He stops a few steps from the couch, turning to stare at Bokuto and Akaashi. Akaashi must have noticed the force behind Bokuto’s smile, when they all arrived, because he’s doting on him now, carding his fingers through Bokuto’s hair and pressing kisses to Bokuto’s forehead. Bokuto is practically preening under the attention, his smile bright and so wide it looks like it might hurt his cheeks, soon enough.

It’s cute, Osamu decides. He shoots a glance at Rin to find that he has his phone out again, close enough to his face that he could be reading something but is definitely trying to sneak pictures of the two of them. Osamu doesn’t rat him out and, instead, chooses to watch Akaashi and Bokuto as well.

It’s a funny thing to know that someone is married and then to actually see it, Osamu thinks. While Akaashi and Bokuto don’t seem to completely shy away from displaying their affection publicly, there’s something very different about watching the two of them like this, leaning into each other and a little lost in the act of existing together.

Bokuto seems to notice both Osamu and Rin staring at them, after a moment, because he jerks a bit and pulls himself out of Akaashi’s grasp, his cheeks going red.

“Uh…” Bokuto glances at the two of them and then at the floor. His hands reach out to cling to Akaashi’s arm. “What was it that you guys wanted to… Um. Talk about?”

“You and Akaashi are soulmates,” Rin says, dropping his phone back into his pocket. His eyes are serious, but the line of his mouth is soft. Bokuto arches an eyebrow, his eyes darting back and forth between the three of them. “The both of you believe that to be true and Osamu and I believe both of you. But… Uh. Someone told us that if the two of you are truly soulmates, then, logically, that means that Osamu and I are probably soulmates with both Akaashi and you as well, Bokuto.”

Bokuto flinches, the words startling him enough that he takes a step backwards, away from Akaashi. “What?” He says. He’s staring at Osamu and Rin, his eyes wide. “You… What are you trying to say?”

Osamu decides to forego any kind of subtlety and just barrel his way through this conversation. “Date us,” he says, head tilted back and eyebrow arched. “If all four of us are soulmates then all four of us should be together. And… If you would like to try then… Then Rin and I both want to try too.”

For a moment, the room is completely still. Osamu feels like he’s holding his breath, his shoulders tensing. Rin seems just as still, next to him, and Akaashi hovers awkwardly behind Bokuto, his hands reaching out to close the distance between them. Bokuto is so still it’s like he’s a statue until suddenly tears start to gather in the corners of his eyes. Osamu feels himself flinch, taken aback.

“You… You really…?” Bokuto sniffles. He blinks as if trying to shake away his tears, but it doesn’t seem to be all that effective. Hesitantly, Osamu shifts, reaching a hand out before dropping it to his side. Is it appropriate? Would Bokuto be okay with his offer of comfort? 

Rin moves first, stopping when he’s standing directly in front of Bokuto. He reaches out and pats Bokuto’s cheek, a few light touches of his long fingers. Bokuto doesn’t shiver, even though the touch is probably cold. Rin’s hands are always cold.

“Who cares what words are on our bodies and what ones aren’t?” Rin says. His voice is warm, the way Osamu loves it the most, and barely louder than a whisper. “You love Akaashi, just as much as he loves you. We… Osamu and I never had to think about something like this before, but… It doesn’t matter. What matters is that we all know that we’re soulmates. And… And I think we must be, to have found each other like this.”

“You’re sure?” Bokuto blinks a few times, clearing the last of his tears from his vision. Something that’s almost a smile quivers at the corners of his lips. “Like… Actually?”

“We’re sure,” Osamu says. “We talked about it a lot. And… We want to try, at least. Really.”

Akaashi’s right hand has moved to stroke Bokuto's hair, a soft, soothing motion. “What do you think?”

“You’re okay with it too?” Bokuto asks, his eyes wide as he looks at Akaashi. “Like… You’re really okay with it, Keiji?”

“Nothing would make me happier,” Akaashi says and the words are so warm when they’re pressed into the air.

Bokuto sniffles one last time and then smiles, wide and bright. “Okay,” he says. “Please. Let’s try.”

As far as beginnings go, Osamu thinks that it’s a good one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for reading!
> 
> If you want to chat I'm here on tumblr (https://nauticalallusions.tumblr.com/) and also at @kejietori on twitter. I'm always open to comments and chatting, be it talk about writing (either my fics or if you want my opinion on something of yours) or some wild rants about whichever Haikyuu!! ship or character strikes your fancy.
> 
> Please leave comments here (they feed my desperate and hopeless writer's soul), and I'll try to reply to all of them!
> 
> Thanks again for wasting your time reading this stupidly self-indulgent fic. <3


	2. meteor shower

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “If ya were feeling particularly in love with me then ya might have,” Osamu teases.
> 
> Rintarou takes back every nice thing he’s ever thought about him. Osamu’s an asshole.
> 
> “Hm,” Keiji mumbles, uncurling himself from around Koutarou. “Sounds hot.”
> 
> “See?” Osamu leans in close and sticks his tongue out at Rintarou because he’s always going to be a bit of a child. Rintarou blames it on Atsumu. “Keiji agrees with me.”
> 
> “Keiji is sleep-deprived,” Rintarou says, lips pursed.
> 
> “Keiji is always sleep-deprived,” Koutarou pipes up, pouting as he pokes at his husband’s hip.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back to chapter two! This chapter is pretty much solely cheesy fluff, and I hope you all enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.

Rintarou keeps his photo albums organized by date, by person, and, if necessary, by location. It’s a system that began during middle school, when he used to take pictures of Airi and everything she did— her first steps or the way she used to try and trap the aging family cat under her favorite blanket. In his last year of middle school, the number of albums only grew, his mother and father’s names joining side by side with his sister’s. His father’s album was smaller, a photo here and there of him cooking or playing with Airi. His mother’s album was large, then, photos of her smiling and happy and—

He thinks her album is the smallest one he has now, but it’s been a while since he looked at it.

When he had first started high school, Rintarou had been terrified of going to stay in Amagasaki. It had felt like the world was moving too fast and all he had wanted was to lock himself in his room and never leave his father and Airi.

His camera had stayed in a box in his closet in Nagoya. Honestly, he had tried to pack it in his bags a number of times, but he’d never found the strength to. It had been easier, back then, to leave it behind and pretend that he had never loved it at all. In the end, it’s always easier to leave things behind, no matter how much one once loved them, Rintarou thinks. Remembering is always the difficult part.

It’s a strange thing to think about, even now, that Osamu and Atsumu are really the only reason that he still enjoys taking pictures. 

In a completely embarrassing way that he would never admit to either of them, they had kind of saved him from himself.

Their albums are by far his largest, years of blackmail material piled up in a big clutter, mixed in with pictures of Osamu’s smile and Osamu’s cooking and that look that Atsumu gets in his eyes when he sees Sakusa, the one where he looks like he’s getting hyped up for the most exciting verbal sparring match of his life.

It was only in his third year at Inarizaki that his camera had found its way from his closet in Nagoya to his desk in Amagasaki.

Osamu had seen it the very next time he’d come over and had said, “how long have ya had a camera for? Fuck, Rin. I was just about to actually buy you one.”

Rintarou hadn’t, even then, found the courage to tell him where the camera had come from and why it had been so long since he’d held it and, instead, had smirked and said, “sorry. Guess you’re going to have to think a bit harder about my next birthday present.”

Osamu had known that something was wrong, Rintarou is fairly certain. But, still, he hadn’t asked. Osamu has always been too kind, that way. 

Still, despite years of letting his camera gather dust, it’s so familiar in his hands, now. The past year and seven months have been full of the cold feeling of metal against his fingers and picture after picture— Osamu in the kitchen with a cup of coffee in hand in the early hours of the morning, Keiji asleep at his desk, his glasses askew and the light of his computer bouncing off his face, Koutarou laughing so hard that he’s practically falling off the couch— and Rintarou is content, truly.

It’s in the middle of a sweltering day in June that practice finishes almost an hour earlier than he and Koutarou had thought it would. It’s a blessing if only because Rintarou has felt like death warmed over for the past hour and a half at least. 

He clears out of the locker room of the Tokyo training center for the national team first and makes his way outside. His camera finds its way into his hands but when he presses the power button nothing happens. Rintarou blinks at it, a little stunned, and feels completely frozen, the heat barely even noticeable. A number of familiar faces pass by him and he offers them farewells without even hearing himself, his eyes locked on the pitch-black screen. He checks the battery, frowning when the small light on it informs him that it's fully charged.

Shit. Well. That’s that, then.

Koutarou finds him like that, sitting on a bench and staring at his camera, the battery halfway pushed back into its slot.

“Rin Rin, I’m ready to go!”

Rintarou glances upwards and blinks. His lips part in surprise at the fact that Koutarou is standing directly in front of him, his eyes locked on his boyfriend’s hip and the way that his shirt has ridden up ever so slightly.

“Ah.” Rintarou blinks again and shakes himself. It’s just a camera. He can buy another one, soon enough. He slides the battery back into his camera and closes the compartment’s lid. When it clicks shut he slides the camera into his bag and stands. He and Koutarou are a breath apart, hips brushing against each other’s and noses pressed so near. “Okay. Let’s go, then.”

Koutarou’s mouth falls open. Evidently, he hadn’t noticed how close he had been standing to the bench. Rintarou feels a small grin tug at his lips. He leans forward, quickly, and presses a kiss to Koutarou’s mouth. Koutarou, as always, responds eagerly.

Rintarou isn’t exactly sure how long they stand in front of the training facility, Koutarou’s hands on his hips and Rintarou’s hands wrapped lazily around broad shoulders, lips moving against lips. He only knows that they’re interrupted, eventually, by the most annoying voice to currently exist on the planet.

“Can ya not make out where everyone can see ya? It’s real gross, ya know,” Atsumu says. His hands are resting on his hips, his eyebrows pulling down. 

Sakusa is behind him, unsurprisingly, one of his ever-present masks pulled up over the bottom half of his face. The arch of his eyebrow looks almost amused, though, and Rintarou arches an eyebrow back at him in return. If he’s not mistaken, Sakusa’s cheek twitches, ever so slightly.

“Sorry, Tsum Tsum!” Koutarou says. One of his arms curls around Rintarou’s shoulders. “I can’t help it that Rin Rin is really pretty.”

Rintarou is certain that his face must be bright red but he thinks that he’ll blame it on the heat if anyone asks.

Weakly, he says, “Koutarou…”

Koutarou turns to look at him, his eyes a little wide. They’re are all too knowing, though, and Rintarou decides that the two of them have spent far too much time together, now, (or maybe the problem is that Koutarou and Osamu have spent too much time together) because Koutarou clocks his blush and the slouch of his shoulders in less than a second and turns even further to press laughter into Rintarou’s hair.

“Leave them be.” Sakusa, bless him, has grabbed Atsumu’s arm and is dragging him towards the parking lot. “We’ll see both of you tomorrow.”

Thankfully, Koutarou gathers himself enough to say, “Bye Tsum Tsum! Bye Omi-kun!” without a hint of laughter in his voice.

Rintarou offers a quick, “Thank you, Sakusa. Fuck off, Atsumu.”

Atsumu flips him off as he and Sakusa walk away, so Rintarou counts it as a win.

When they can no longer see either Sakusa or Atsumu anymore, Koutarou arches an eyebrow at him and says, all too earnestly, “we could just make out some more.”

Rintarou scoffs and shoves Koutarou away from him. Koutarou laughs, boisterous and adorable, and follows after him. Rintarou makes it all of three steps before Koutarou’s hand is in his. He wishes that he could complain but, well. It’s hard to complain when Koutarou is smiling like that. It always has been. But, then again, he thinks he’s probably just weak.

He thinks that he’s okay with it, though. His empty hand aches, wishing for the feeling of cold metal in it, just to capture the way that Koutarou’s eyes shine with laughter and summer heat.

*

They arrive home to find Keiji slumped across the couch, Osamu perched on the chair across from him, his brow furrowed a bit. 

Koutarou yells out his customary greetings (“Keijiiiii! Samu Samu! We’re home!”) as the two of them enter the apartment but Keiji doesn’t move an inch. Osamu raises his head and offers them a brief wave. Rintarou points at Keiji and arches an eyebrow. Osamu shakes his head, his shoulders lifting and falling abruptly.

_Huh._

Keiji’s voice, muffled by whatever pillow he’s shoved his face into, offers, “if you two are talking about me without talking again then I’m going to never move again.”

“Ah. Sorry,” Rintarou says. He hopes he isn’t smiling. “We weren’t. I swear.”

Keiji finally lifts his head, just a bit, to shoot a disgruntled look at Rintarou. “Sure,” he says, his voice flat. “I definitely believe you.”

“Is this writer’s block again?” Koutarou asks, plopping himself down on the couch by Akaashi’s calves. Akaashi grumbles and scrunches up into a ball, curling his way around Koutarou so his face is pressed into Koutarou’s stomach.

It looks like an incredibly uncomfortable position, actually, but Rintarou admires the dedication.

“Why was Tsumu texting me and telling me that ya and Kou are ‘fucking disgusting assholes’ earlier?” Osamu asks, stretching as he pulls himself off of the chair.

Rintarou snorts, unable to help himself. Koutarou’s shoulders shake with laughter too and Keiji (in ball form) sways ever so slightly with the trembling movement of Koutarou’s abdomen.

“He caught us making out in front of the training center,” Rintarou offers, a smirk growing on his lips. Osamu arches an eyebrow, his lips twitching. “The look on his face was like his life flashed before his eyes. Priceless.”

Osamu chuckles. His nose scrunches up as he smiles. Rintarou thinks that he looks particularly beautiful, right now.

“Did ya get a good picture of it?” He asks.

Rintarou’s hand moves to his bag, almost self-consciously, as he thinks about his camera again. He forces himself to just roll his eyes. “I just told you that we were making out. You think I had my camera out?”

“If ya were feeling particularly in love with me then ya might have,” Osamu teases.

Rintarou takes back every nice thing he’s ever thought about him. Osamu’s an asshole.

“Hm,” Keiji mumbles, uncurling himself from around Koutarou. “Sounds hot.”

“See?” Osamu leans in close and sticks his tongue out at Rintarou because he’s always going to be a bit of a child. Rintarou blames it on Atsumu. “Keiji agrees with me.”

“Keiji is sleep-deprived,” Rintarou says, lips pursed.

“Keiji is always sleep-deprived,” Koutarou pipes up, pouting as he pokes at his husband’s hip. Keiji arches away from him and frowns. It’s adorable, actually, which Rintarou thinks is completely unfair.

Keiji himself rolls his eyes, stands up from the couch, and offers, “Keiji is going to ignore all of you.” 

The three of them stare after him as he walks away, completely unsubtle in the way they all end up watching his ass. Keiji definitely knows that they are, too, because he calls out a bright, “we have dinner booked in two and a half hours, don’t forget,” and then disappears into the bedroom.

Rintarou blinks and then feels his eyes widen. He had forgotten, actually. Fuck. His eyes fly to his bag again.

“I have something I have to do,” he says. “Before dinner, that is.”

“Huh?” Osamu turns to look at him, arching an eyebrow. “Are ya kidding me? Yer just going to ignore that invitation?”

Rintarou swallows. He most definitely does _not_ want to avoid that invitation, because Keiji is a tease and he was definitely moving his hips that way on purpose, but tonight is supposed to be— is _going_ to be— special and he needs his camera to work. Or he needs to get a new one. Or… Something. 

“Well… I just…”

“Is this about your camera, Rin Rin?” Koutarou asks. His head is leaning back against the couch and his smile is wide. Rintarou blinks down at him, startled.

He hadn’t thought that Koutarou had noticed, earlier. But, well. That’s probably his mistake. Koutarou is usually quite good at noticing things, actually.

“Yes,” Rintarou says slowly. “It is, actually. Um… I just…”

“Don’t worry about it!” Koutarou says. Rintarou blinks. He should definitely worry about it, actually, he thinks, but Koutarou just offers him a beaming smile, a thumbs-up, and a wink. “I’ve got you covered, Rin Rin.”

Rintarou has absolutely no clue what that means, but suddenly Keiji calls out, “I’m not showing up late to our reservations, gentlemen,” and all rational thought leaves Rintarou’s mind. He drops his bag on the couch, deciding to trust in Koutarou’s crypticness, and follows Osamu and Koutarou towards their bedroom.

*

When it had come to celebrating anniversaries, the four of them had had a long and strange debate over which dates they should celebrate and which ones they shouldn’t. In the end, the decision had come down to three anniversaries that, at least for the moment, were ones they still had to celebrate: April twentieth, the anniversary of Osamu and Rintarou’s relationship, October eighteenth, the anniversary of the day the four of them had begun their relationship together, and June fifth, the anniversary of Keiji and Koutarou’s wedding.

They had also reached an agreement (mostly through Koutarou’s absolute refusal to back down) that, despite two of the anniversaries only being focused on part of their full relationship, the anniversaries should be treated as a celebration of all four of them, rather than a celebration of a specific pair out of them.

Rintarou had never voiced it out loud, then, but he thinks it’s better that way, despite the fact that it means he has to buy nine different anniversary presents every year.

The restaurant that Osamu had booked for their dinner tonight is actually the one that Rintarou, Osamu, and Keiji went to on their first date in Tokyo. The place has barely changed at all in the last year and a half, all dark walls and curtains and candle-lit tables for atmosphere, but Rintarou is a bit surprised when they’re led to a private room in the back.

As they move to their seats, he turns and arches an eyebrow at Osamu. Osamu simply winks, his lips quirking up a bit.

What a smug asshole.

“Oh! This stuff looks delicious,” Koutarou says as he flips through the menu so quickly that he can’t possibly be reading anything.

Rintarou stifles a laugh but doesn’t comment. 

Keiji offers a brief and harried, “perhaps you should read a bit slower, Koutarou. It might be easier to make up your mind that way.”

The idea seems like a great one, apparently, because Koutarou takes to reading through his menu at a fairly normal pace. 

A waitress comes by fairly quickly to take their drink order and Rintarou feels his hand twitch, achingly empty. He finds himself clenching it around the edge of the table to distract himself. When he turns his attention back to the conversation, he finds Osamu and Koutarou chatting about what they’re thinking about ordering and Keiji staring at his hand.

“Koutarou,” Keiji says suddenly, “maybe we should start with your presents for everyone tonight? We can space them out, so we’re all giving presents to each other in between every course.”

Osamu leans his chin on his hand and drawls, “Sounds fun,” in a way that is far too appealing.

“Sure!” Koutarou chirps. He claps his hands together and his eyes land on Rintarou’s hand clenched around the table. “I want Rin Rin to have his present first.”

“Ah.” Rintarou blinks as a box is suddenly shoved under his nose. He takes it carefully, shifting his chair backward to set it in his lap, and then says, “thank you, Koutarou.”

The wrapping paper is slick under his hands, but Rintarou carefully peels it away from the box. He blinks at the image staring back at him from the side of the box when the paper is out of the way. His eyes water a bit and he tries to blink the tears away.

“You… You got me a camera,” he says, the words catching in his throat.

Bokuto nods, a wide smile on his face. “I know that your other camera is kind of sentimental, so don’t feel pressured at all to get rid of it or anything, but… I noticed that the battery was taking way longer to charge and, uh. I looked for replacements for it first, but I couldn’t find any so… This is what happened instead.”

Rintarou doesn’t think he can be blamed for the way that he sets the camera’s box down and nearly launches himself over the table to press his face into Koutarou’s shoulder.

“Thank you,” he mumbles, pressing light kisses against the skin of Koutarou’s neck. “Thank you. You’re the best.”

Koutarou laughs and presses a kiss to his hair. And, because he’s amazing, he adds, “I also opened it last night so I could charge the battery for you. So you can use it right now if you want!”

Rintarou might actually cry. Instead, he kisses Koutarou, uncaring of anything else happening in the room.

Osamu wolf whistles. Rintarou pulls away to glare at him and finds both Osamu and Keiji staring at them. Osamu looks far too amused, his eyes definitely far too interested in how Koutarou’s hands keep drifting lower down Rintarou’s back. Keiji is a little pink, his eyes focused on their lips.

“You’re both gross,” Rintarou says, but he can’t hide his smile.

“We can’t help it that yer pretty, Rin Rin.”

Rintarou moves away from Koutarou solely to shove Osamu, but he thinks that it’s worth it. He settles back down in his chair to enjoy his drink and his new camera, fiddling with the settings as Koutarou gives Osamu and Keiji their presents— a new blanket for Osamu that must be delightfully warm and soft, because his eyes light up the second that he touches it and a beautiful silver necklace with a blue fire opal dangling from the chain for Keiji, which he puts on as soon as he gets it out of the box.

They eat their fill of food and each gather a small collection of presents next to them. Rintarou delights in taking subtle pictures of each stack of gifts just as much as he delights in taking slightly-less-subtle pictures of Koutarou’s smile and Keiji’s blush and Osamu’s laugh.

After they’ve finished eating, Rintarou and Osamu clearing the last pieces of chocolate cake off of Keiji and Koutarou’s plates, Keiji tilts his head back a bit, glances at Rintarou, and says, “well, I guess we only have one gift left, then.”

“Right,” Rintarou says. He clears his throat. “This… Uh. Technically, Osamu and Keiji were both involved in this. It was my idea at first, but… It’s from all of us, really,” he tells Koutarou.

Koutarou blinks. He seems to consider this, for a moment, before he smiles. “I’m excited, then!”

Rintarou stands up, tugging Osamu upwards with him. Osamu goes willingly, although Rintarou thinks that his hand might be shaking. He tightens his grip on Osamu’s hand before letting go altogether. He reaches down, rather unceremoniously, and jerks his shirt upwards so it rests just above his hip. He glances over to see Osamu do the same, shifting a bit so that Koutarou can look at his right side, up along his ribs.

Koutarou’s eyes dart over the words that are scrawled on both of them, now, in his large, messy handwriting. He stares for so long that Rintarou thinks he might have broken or something, but then his eyes go watery, suddenly.

“You…” His voice shakes and cracks. He sniffles, just a bit. “You both…”

Rintarou thinks he looks so familiar, then, so much of him just like that night in what was then just Keiji and Koutarou’s apartment, with his brittle, fake smiles and quiet sniffles.

“Happy anniversary, Kou,” Osamu chirps, that small little smile that’s definitely Rintarou’s favorite on his face. “Rin thought it was about time that we move on from just trying, ya know. And I agreed with him.”

Koutarou has pounced on both of them before Rintarou can even brace himself and the three of them go stumbling, falling onto the floor in a heap. Keiji huffs out a laugh, so Rintarou reaches out and grabs his hand, yanking him down on top of them.

“Thank you,” Koutarou says. He’s still crying but his smile is so wide that it doesn’t matter. He kisses Rintarou first, his lips quick and trembling, before he kisses Osamu and then Keiji. “Thank you. I love you all.”

“We love you too, Koutarou.” Keiji’s voice is warm, his right hand tangled in Koutarou’s hair and his left hand still in Rintarou’s own. Rintarou grabs Osamu’s arm and Osamu, as if having the same idea, reaches out to grab Koutarou’s hands. They lie there together, a giant lump on the floor, a small link formed of their limbs, until Koutarou’s tears finally dry.

Rintarou stands up first, drawn by the need to take a picture of the three of them like that before they can move. He snaps a few of them and finds himself staring down at the screen of his camera as Osamu goes about trying to pay the bill. 

The third photo is the one he likes best, Rintarou decides, after flipping through them all several times. In it, Koutarou’s eyes are red-rimmed, but his smile splits his face in half. He’s slumped himself over Osamu, practically covering him completely with his body. Akaashi has laid himself out on the floor next to him, spread out like a star-fish. He’s laughing, just like Osamu is, the two of them curled inwards with the force of their glee. It’s love in one picture, the best kind of picture to stare at and never get tired of.

Rintarou thinks he’ll make it his background tomorrow.

When the bill is finally paid and they’ve gathered all their things, Keiji takes Rintarou’s free hand in his own and the two of them lead the way out of the room, laughing to themselves as Osamu struggles to carry his new blanket and Koutarou is ultimately completely unhelpful, despite his attempts to aid in Osamu’s struggle.

“Tonight was nice,” Keiji says, once they’re outside. “Thank you.”

“I didn’t do shit,” Rintarou points out. “You don’t have anything to thank me for.”

Keiji’s free hand drops to Rintarou’s hip, where his new tattoo lies. 

Rintarou shakes his head. “Don’t thank me for that,” he says, doing his best not to roll his eyes. “I’m glad. Really. I’m happy. I think that we might always be if we keep going like this.”

From behind them, Osamu starts cursing and Koutarou is laughing, suddenly. The two of them turn to find Osamu attempting to balance his blanket around his shoulders like it’s an incredibly oversized scarf. Koutarou is bent over, wheezing giggles leaving him.

Rintarou grabs his camera to take a picture. When he looks away from the camera again, he finds Keiji smiling.

“Yes,” Keiji agrees. “I think so too.”

Rintarou turns the camera on Keiji’s face, then, smiling himself when Keiji tries to lean away from him.

It’s so easy, really. To exist, like this.

When he looks at the picture he just took of Keiji, a shot of his smile from a particularly ugly angle that he still looks pretty in, somehow, Rintarou thinks that his folder of photos from tonight might end up being his favorite one. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all again for reading!
> 
> Again, if you want to chat feel free to contact me on tumblr (https://nauticalallusions.tumblr.com/) and also at @kejietori on twitter. 
> 
> This chapter also feels like the appropriate place to say, one last time: happy birthday, Suna!


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